The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,36
slid the business card into my purse and not his pocket.
13
Court
The office was abuzz, and yet it was all white noise. Just a whirl of activity that I couldn’t process. Camera crew setting up for the shot, lighting blinding my new desk, hair and makeup floating about, a flurry of very important people for the company chattering behind the spotlight. It all felt… surreal.
I couldn’t believe we’d whipped all of this together in a matter of days. The photo shoot and interview that would release, following this announcement. The interior designers had practically re-created my father’s office down to the desk I stood before and the circular rug under my feet.
It made me want to vomit.
Had someone given them a picture? It had to have been deliberate. It was too coincidental. I suspected my mother od tampering. It wasn’t English’s style.
The world felt as if it were dropping away under my feet. I was going to hyperventilate. I hadn’t had a panic attack in years. I’d been sober too long. I needed a drink. I needed… something.
Then, a figure emerged out of the mayhem. Penn stepped forward and stood next to me in the glaring light. He reached his hand out. A gesture of goodwill. I shook his hand.
“How are you holding up?” Penn asked.
I released his hand and then straightened. I needed to leash this. I’d thought I had it under control. That his ghost couldn’t touch me.
“Well, I didn’t ask for Dad’s desk,” I said hoarsely.
“Mother’s handiwork?”
“Who else?”
“Can I ask why you’re doing this?” Penn asked hesitantly.
I could see that my little brother thought I was insane to fall back into the Kensington mold that I’d done my hardest to avoid. He meant well. Even if it wasn’t helpful in this moment.
I shrugged. “I’m helping the campaign.”
“You don’t care about the campaign or if our mother wins it.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Eh… maybe.”
“But why? I can’t figure it out. It’s not in your own self-interest.”
“Are you saying the only things I’m capable of are in my own self-interest?”
Penn tilted his head. “I’m a moral philosopher. I think that about nearly everyone, but I know that about you.”
“If you know everything already, then does it even matter? It must be in my own self-interest,” I responded blandly.
I’d thought it would be good to have Penn at my side. We’d spent so many fucking years arguing that it was nice having a brother again. Except for this bullshit.
“You left after Dad left and never looked back. How is this your own self-interest?”
My mounting anxiety hit a peak, and Penn was the only one standing in its wake. “Don’t pretend you know or care what I went through after Dad died,” I responded low and feral.
Penn took a step back at my anger. “Ah… so, you’re still in there.”
“You’re the one bringing up the past like you always do.”
“Some people find the past illuminating for the future. I guess I should have as well,” he muttered. “I’m heading off to the Hamptons for the weekend with the crew. Good luck with this madness.”
Then, before I could respond, Penn strode straight past the camera crew, our mother, and out the door. He’d never had much tolerance for me, let alone Kensington Corporation. Apparently, I’d hit the max for him.
“All right,” English said. She strode toward me with her fake business smile plastered on her face. “Good to go?”
“Sure.”
She kept that smile on her face, even as her eyes softened. “Everything okay with Penn? That seemed kind of intense.”
“You’ve met my brother. All conversations with him are intense.”
“True. Are you still feeling confident? You seem a bit… pale.”
I wanted to tell her. It was my father’s desk. I didn’t want his desk. But what the fuck could she do about it at this point? She wasn’t going to cancel everything we’d set up because the desk was familiar.
“Just a lot of lights,” I lied.
She frowned and then leaned forward, turning us so that no one else could see what we were saying. “Court, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah.”
Her face was deathly serious. “That is not very convincing. I can stop this right now. No questions asked. I told you that we’d only do it if you were comfortable.”
“Comfort is a degree,” I threw her words back at her.
“Tell me if you want an out.”
“We already did the interview… and everyone’s here.”